


what my heart was hoping for

by metsuryuogi



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, brief mention of baby Joyce but I simply cannot go further because ouchie, even married they are smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metsuryuogi/pseuds/metsuryuogi
Summary: "Now, he doesn't leave once the job is done; this is his home, with his wife and his son, and Gilbert suddenly understands what it is to love a child so instantaneously; it's an overwhelming sensation that consumes him whole. The center of his world has simply grown an infant-sized amount and he cannot imagine it shrinking to its original state now."
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 150





	what my heart was hoping for

**Author's Note:**

> please take this morsel, this crumb, as i write something long and torturous. 
> 
> title is from Building God by Tennis

The glow of motherhood suits Anne perfectly, Gilbert decides, as she holds on to their son in the pale hours of the morning with sweat-glistened skin and rosy, overworked cheeks.

Her hair is plastered against her head and the yellowish-orange light flickering across the room from the candles on the nightstand contour her face perfectly, and she's never looked so beautiful. Anne is always beautiful, of course, but he wants to savor this look on her, embed it deep into his memory, and hope and pray he sees it again.

When Joyce was born, Gilbert could hardly spare a second to appreciate the look of Anne after labor, instead, he had allowed her brief, blessed moments of motherhood while he sat still across the room in the knowledge that these moments were fleeting, but now, their son’s shrill screams fill every room in the house, demanding to be heard. He cannot refute it now; Anne is the mother she'd always wanted to be. She holds James Matthew’s small head expertly against her, and the soft smile that graces her face along with her quiet cooing carries all the wisdom of years of maternity. He is so tiny against her, but Gilbert can see his strong constitution and is confident that he will live to see the tomorrow that his sister had been denied.

He stands at the edge of the room, not wanting to disturb the scene he doesn't feel quite apart of yet, choosing to stare down at them in solitude and he takes the deepest and most calm breath he's had that morning. The delivery was much easier than the last—Anne felt more alert and there were no complications— but he still feels a sizable knot in his stomach that refuses to dissipate until he sees her bright eyes and tender hands upon their healthy, flushed-pink baby. It is instinctual and right to see Anne this way and it simultaneously crushes and mends his heart over and over again, especially when she coaxes him to sit next to her with her free hand patting on the bed.

“Come,” she whispers, “meet your son.”

It floors him completely to hear her refer to James as _his_.

Gilbert has delivered several babies throughout Four Winds, but he is a stranger to all of them. Those children will not remember him being their first contact, he won't be apart of the magical story the parents tell for years ahead. The only thing he feels is peace in the safety of his patients and their families— letting mother and father become acquainted with their child and leaving once the job is done, but now, as he settles next to Anne, wrapping an arm gently behind her, he immediately feels something different.

Now, he doesn't leave once the job is done; this is his home, with his wife and his son, and Gilbert suddenly understands what it is to love a child so instantaneously; it's an overwhelming sensation that consumes him whole. The center of his world has simply grown an infant-sized amount and he cannot imagine it shrinking to its original state now.

The little bundle is quiet for the first time that morning, and he's looking over to his mother with wide, hazel eyes as if he's trying to converse with her already in a secret language only they know.

Gilbert wants to know too.

Anne, sensing Gilbert's desire to make himself known to little James, takes his hand and gently extends his index finger and lowers it. James takes hold immediately, wrapping his small fist around the finger tightly. Gilbert knows from his schooling and experiences that this is purely a reflex—an innate natural response to any object placed into a baby's hand— but Gilbert can't help but feel like he already recognizes him as his father and is showing his love in the only way he knows how.

"See? He knows his dad already," Anne says, gazing up at Gilbert's awed expression.

Gilbert peels his eyes away from the baby and looks to her, "you're amazing. Do you know that? I need you to know that."

Anne lowers her lashes, slightly bashful, "you may have already said it a few times."

"It bears repeating."

She doesn't have a lot of strength, he can tell, but she shakily lifts herself up to place a kiss on his cheek. It's barely a brush of lips but it sends such a powerful message— one that they never needed a lot of words to communicate. He knows he should get up, wake Marilla, and collect Bash, Delphine, and Susan from their walk _(the seven-year-old had woken up only midway through the labor and couldn't fall back asleep, so Bash and their dear maid, Susan, had taken her outside to keep her out of the way)_ , but he wants to just stay here in their sheltered bubble from the world for just a few minutes more. Keep this secret inside their inner circle before allowing anyone else besides the finicky nurse in.

An inner circle.

He likes the sound of that.

Growing up, it was just him and his dad. They had their inside jokes, their secrets, but it was two of them. He and his dad. There wasn't an inner circle to be apart of. He likes to imagine if his mother and siblings had survived, his parents would be a team—spelling out words to keep secrets from the kids and joining forces to come up with punishments that fit their crimes. Then, he and his siblings would have their own inner circle— one where they'd whisper mischievous plans to each other and explore throughout the woods together. He used to imagine that when he was particularly lonely after his father died, but now, he sees all of it and more with Anne.

Anne smooths out the coppery tuft of hair on the top of James' head, "do you think he looks like a Jem, Gilbert? I've decided he looks like a Jem, not something as uninspired as a Jimmy, but something that tells you exactly what he is; a gem."

Gilbert hums in agreement, still transfixed on the little hand encompassing his finger.

"Tell me honestly, Gil," Anne starts, lifting Jem closer up to his face, "who do you think he looks like?"

Gilbert gets this question from new parents constantly, and usually, he throws in a civil comment, a small compliment to please the parents, but in reality, he has no idea. They always look like babies to him, very cute, but also like a slew of other babies he'd seen on any given week. But with Jem, even without the patch of red hair, he can see his mother's influence on him and can pick out the places where he's a perfect mix of the two of them which sends a sort of thrill through him.

"Well, he has your nose," Gilbert says, knowing this will please Anne greatly. She's always said her nose was her most exceptional physical feature.

"That I _am_ glad for," she laughs, smoothing her finger over Jem's nose lightly as to not disturb him. "Though, I am especially glad he has your eyes and your mouth; I had been hoping for that."

"And your hair," he jokes. Anne had sulked for a brief moment when the young nurse unknowingly told her she discovered red hair as she cleaned him up, but Gilbert could not deny he was completely over the moon about it.

"There's no need to rub it in, Gilbert," she pouts, "we all know it's what you wanted."

He laughs quietly at that, and then they fall back into silence, watching Jem carefully as if he'd do something spectacular if they even blinked. Gilbert can tell that Anne wants to go to sleep— she's nodding in and out already, resting her head on his shoulder— but her stubbornness keeps her up and he's afraid he'll have to use his stern doctor's voice on her as he has many times before.

"What do we do now?" she whispers quietly, looking up at him expectantly.

"I suppose we fetch the masses waiting patiently to meet young Master Jem since he has been taking his precious time, and then you let Susan take him for a bit so _you_ can get some well-deserved sleep."

She smiles, "it's all well and good you have a plan for today, Dr. Blythe, but I mean what do we _do_ — when everyone leaves and it's just us— do you think we'll do this right?"

He ponders the question for a moment, and it's not like it's the first time they've had the particularly heavy discussion.

"Surely, a medical license and a degree in education between the two of us could lend some expertise on the matter," he jokes, and Anne stares at him exasperatedly so he begins again—comedy aside.

"I don't know what _right_ is in this case, Anne-girl, and I don't think there is such a thing, but what I do know is that we'll love him and nurture him in all the ways we can, which is all one can do."

She's quiet for a moment, soaking up his answer in the way she does when he says something particularly profound and then wraps her hand over Jem's, where he still has his father's finger in a death grip.

"I love my two boys more than any words could ever describe," she announces with a cheek splitting smile, and Gilbert quirks his brow with a coy grin.

"More than words can describe? I didn't think that was entirely possible for you, Mrs. Blythe."

"Oh, I am afraid it's possible," Anne nods with faux-solemnity, before further explaining herself, "I feel something that couldn't be described by any word in that pocket dictionary you once gifted me —I should know, I've scoured through it so many times it's practically memorized— I could call it bliss, but then my heart is too passionate and erratic for that, though, I cannot call it feverish, because I am not sure I’ve ever felt this content. Love does seem like such a small word sometimes…" she drifts off, raising her eyes to focus on his, which are shining against the warm candlelight.

Gilbert stares back at her and he hopes she can feel the reverence he holds for her so tightly against him and then shakes his head to pull himself from the trance her words have placed him in, “perhaps not everything needs to be defined by words,” he says, low and clearly affected by her ramblings, leaning forward to kiss her, but before he can connect, her finger is pressed against his lips.

"Listen closely because I will only admit to this once; I am very tired and would like to sleep, so why don't you make yourself useful and go get everyone," she commands in her schoolmarmish tone of old, and he reluctantly lifts himself off of the bed and gives her a salute.

"Your wish is my command, Queen Anne," he says, backing slowly towards the door without turning around as if this might be his last glimpse of the sight before him.

"It is a command," she deadpans, but it's not without humor as she sends a smirk his way.

When their family finally makes it into the room, showering Anne with affections and both of them with congratulations, Gilbert and Anne share taciturn looks as Marilla wipes the sweat off of her daughter's forehead, as Delphine counts Jem's fingers and toes, as Bash and Susan quarrel over who Jem takes after more _(Bash jokes that Gilbert should be glad Jem looks more like his "radiant" mother rather than his "ordinary" father)._

With every look they share he feels their inner circle getting more solidified, unbreakable. Bash, Delphine, and Marilla will leave later in the week, but this is forever for Anne and Gilbert.

That night, when they're finally all alone again, and Jem reaches his chubby hand to Gilbert's face, and spits up all over Anne's nightdress, she will tell him that she's never liked change; never liked the way it disrupted the things she'd love and the things she was used to, but she tells him this is their greatest change, the best change she could ever hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my google docs for ages?? like months?? please enjoy it and let me know what you think!! 
> 
> twitter: @gilbertjpeg  
> tumblr: @natsujpg


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